


Fix in the bottom of a bottle

by HexaMoritz



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Violence, kind of almost violence, not really but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5547098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HexaMoritz/pseuds/HexaMoritz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack comes home drunk, and David isn't happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fix in the bottom of a bottle

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to another episode of 'Blake writes stories at 3am and probably misses a load of grammar errors and other things'. I'll fix this up in the morning, probably. For now, enjoy.

They had never had a fight before. 

Not a real fight. There had been small disagreements, of course, and occasional tensions between them, but nothing had ever escalated beyond a schoolboy argument before. 

Most of the time, David was… tolerant. Accepting of most things Jack Kelly, because they were just that. Jack’s little quirks, however annoying, could be dealt with, even if that meant sacrificing a good night’s sleep because Jack wants to draw with the lamp on. 

This night, however, was different. 

Jack had come home at a ridiculous hour, storming through the door of their tiny apartment and slamming it shut behind him. As soon as Jack approached him, David could smell the trademark scent of booze and cigar smoke clinging to Jack like a disease. A brief smell of his breath found the same tell-tale pointers as well, the cloying taste of cheap alcohol hanging in the air.

David knew that Jack liked to drink. Occasionally, David would accompany him to the local beerhouse to meet with some old friends and to catch up on the lives of everyone who had since outgrown their tiny home town and moved on. But it made David anxious, and not without reason. One night, Jack had confided in him that his past held many dark secrets, and that he’d once used the drink as an escape. It hadn’t happened in a while, Jack had assured him, and it wasn’t likely to happen again- he’d moved on from that, found his feet. He wasn’t a boy any more. 

It was never mentioned again, at least not explicitly. David, however, didn’t refrain from making his disapproval known when Jack arranged a night out, and this was only met by a quiet “I’m fine,” and a reassuring kiss on the cheek. David wondered what made tonight different.

Had something happened? David constantly worried that something was going to hurt Jack, though he knew they were much safer once their claustrophobic little home town had been left behind them. Maybe Jack was just bored, that could be it, but the anger blazing behind Jack’s eyes told a different story.

David had ignored this before, a while ago. Let it slide, just pulled Jack into bed and waited for him to sleep it off. But when they’d woken up, Jack hadn’t mentioned it, and David didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. He didn’t want that to happen again, didn’t want Jack to bottle up his emotions like he was used to. This time had to be different.

Jack is fumbling with his shoes in the corner, cursing at his shaking hands that won’t untie the laces.

“Jack? Where have you been?” David begins, though he knows the question is redundant. It’s painfully obvious.

Jack whips around and snarls, teeth flashing menacingly. He takes a wobbly step towards David, planting himself firmly on the ground a few feet away from him. 

“Where have I been? Where the hell d’ya think, Davey? Off having dinner with my folks?” 

The last word is bitten cruelly, but it doesn’t scare David like he knows it should. Rage flourishes inside him instead. He just wants to help, goddamnit. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Jack. Because I can’t think of anything that would give you the excuse to storm in here at, what, two in the morning, reeking of alcohol. So why don’t you tell me what the hell you’ve been up to?” he asks, his voice steadily increasing in volume. 

(Maybe he should notice how Jack shrinks away at that, but he doesn’t.)

“You can’t think of any excuse? Well, doesn’t that surprise me?” Jack slurs, uncoordinated hands waving violently around. “Perfect little Davey with his perfect little life. Sure does surprise me that you can’t think of any reason I’d need to do this. Actually no, it doesn’t surprise me, because you have no idea, Dave, you have no idea. And you never will.”

David’s blood boils beneath his skin. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he spits. 

“There is nothing wrong with me,” Jack replies defensively, eyes darkening. 

David laughs darkly. He knows he sounds belligerent, but he’s past caring right now. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

Jack snaps. Looking back, David knows that comment was completely out of order. Jack starts towards David, motioning to stride across the room to him. David, however, has the upper hand, being stone cold sober. He isn’t a violent person, far from it, but he has basic instincts. He’s been bullied before; he knows how to stand up for himself. Without thinking, he raises a curled fist and—

Jack stumbles backwards, crashing to the floor.

There’s a moment of silence. Confusion fills David’s mind. His fist hadn’t even moved, let alone come into contact with any part of Jack. But there Jack is, looking for all the world like he’s just been struck. David doesn’t know what to do. He stands, dumbstruck, fist still raised in the air.

Below him, Jack has begun trembling. He’s making soft sounds that David has to strain to hear. Guilt creeps to the corners of his consciousness.

“No. No, not you. Never you. You—you were the only one. The only one, no. Not you.”

The fight leaves David immediately. He drops his fist to his side and, slowly, ever so slowly, crouches down. He opens his stance to make sure he’s not coming off as aggressive, though he knows it’s too late. Jack is shaking, tremors wracking his frame. As soon as the pair make eye contact, Jack squeezes his eyes shut, tilting his head away. 

David has fucked up. He doesn’t know how, but he has. He desperately hopes the situation is salvageable.

“Jack—“ he begins breathlessly. “Jack, I—“ 

“Go,” Jack says quietly, not looking up. Fear fills his tone. “Please, just… leave.”

David feels a sinking despair spiral through him at the request and hopes there is no permanence in it.

He stands, hovering awkwardly above Jack for a moment before turning and leaving, grabbing his phone and a jacket on the way out. He has no idea where he’s going to go; he has no friends in this part of town. But Jack had asked him to leave and, drunk or not, David will do anything for him. 

David runs down the six flights of stairs, desperate to get away. He bursts through the main doors of the building onto the dark, empty street. The bitter New York air curls around him, forcing itself in the gaps in his clothing. He wishes he’d stayed for long enough to gather a few things, like a hat and scarf. The only thing he has is his phone, which he holds protectively against his chest. There is only one person he knows he can call.

He squints down at his phone, thumbing through the contacts until he finds the one he’s looking for. Hands already beginning to go numb from cold, he presses dial and hopes she’ll pick up. 

“…David?”

Katherine’s voice at the end of the line is tired, thick with sleep. David breathes a sigh of relief.

“Katherine.”

“It’s two in the morning, Davey, what’s going on?”

What is going on? David can hardly tell. 

“I… Kath. It’s Jack. There was a fight, and he was drunk, and I shouldn’t have done, but I went to hit him, but I didn’t, and—“

“Davey. Slow down, I’m not getting it. Where’s Jack?”

“He’s at home,” David breathes, impatience gnawing at him. 

“And where are you?” Katherine persists.

David doesn’t really know what to answer that with. He doesn’t feel like he’s anywhere at the minute.

“I’m… outside. He asked me to leave. Kath, he was so—“

“One thing at a time,” she says gently. “You’re outside your apartment?”

“Yes, but you don’t understand, he was upset and I was angry and I went to hit him—“

He hears Katherine sigh deeply at the end of the line.

“I know, I know I shouldn’t have, but he was so rude and I’m so tired, and I didn’t hit him but he fell over and started shaking and I don’t know what’s happening but it’s bad, Kath, it’s really, really bad.” 

“Alright. David, alright. Here’s what you need to do, okay? Jack asked you to leave?”

“Yeah,” David mumbles.

“Okay. Go for a walk. Not too far, and stay where there’s lights, but go for a walk and clear your head, okay? In about half an hour, go back home. Go inside, and sort this out. You can call me again if you want, but you need to go back later and try to fix this. Okay?”

David nods, and then realises Katherine can’t see him. “Yeah. Okay, yeah. Thanks,” he mumbles, words catching in his throat. He doesn’t particularly want to go for a walk, but he doesn’t want to go back inside either. 

“Okay. Look after yourself, Davey. And keep in touch,” Katherine instructs.

“I will. Bye, Kath.”

David ends the call, tucking his phone in his jacket pocket. All his energy has gone, and now all he really wants to do is sleep. Instead, he turns around and sets off, walking briskly towards the main road. Very few people are out, the streets taking on an eerie atmosphere in the quiet darkness. David forces himself to forget the numbing cold, forget the exhaustion that has settled in his bones, and push on, swiftly striding past the closed shops and housing estates.

Time escapes him. He has no idea how long he’s been walking when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He slips it out and cringes when he sees the sender.

Jack <3 <3  
[1 message]

Deciding to bite the bullet, David enters his password and opens the message.

_Where r u_

Oh. Definitely not what he’d been expecting. Before David even has time to think about a response, another message has come through.

_Come home_

David taps in the reply box, quickly typing out a response.

_Taking a walk. Be back in 15._

He sends the message off, shoving his phone into his pocket with renewed energy. He turns and sets a fast pace, jogging back down the route he’d walked down. He doesn’t know why Jack has suddenly decided he wants David back, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to miss an opportunity to make things right again. 

He sees his building approaching in the distance and slows his pace, pausing to catch his breath. He doesn’t want to make it look like he’s rushed back, especially if Jack is still holding some drunken rage, so he takes some measured breaths, waiting for his heart rate to return back to normal.

He walks quickly to the entrance of his apartment and stops outside, mentally preparing himself. A quick check of his phone shows two new messages.

_Hurry  
I need you_

Concern peaking, David presses the button for the lift and waits anxiously for the doors to open. He spends the short six-floor ride shifting his weight from foot to foot, his mind conjuring images of a number of awful things that could have happened to Jack, that Jack could have done, while he was away.

He knocks on the door and opens it quietly, stepping in. His limited view of the living area reveals no clue as to Jack’s whereabouts, and as he makes his way awkwardly into the room, David realises that Jack isn’t where he’d left him. He tiptoes to his and Jack’s bedroom and takes a peak in.

Jack is sat on the far corner of the bed, knees to his chest and back to the wall. His teeth worrying at his bottom lip, he glances up when David arrives, making frightful eye contact for a second before breaking it off to look at the duvet cover he’s sat on. 

David steps tentatively into the room, dropping his phone onto the chest of drawers beside him. Seeing Jack look so small tugs at his heart, a stab of guilt being sent through him as he realises he’s the one who’s done this. He’s supposed to love Jack, and he’s hurt him.

“Jack, I am so, so sorry,” he whispers, afraid to break the silence veiling the room. Jack doesn’t respond. “I shouldn’t have. I hurt you, and I shouldn’t—“

“Don’t,” Jack breathes, looking up. David sees tears forming under Jack’s eyelids. “Don’t. We was both wrong, alright. We was both wrong.”

“Jack, I went to hit you, I raised my fist and I shouldn’t have—“

“He’s back.”

That stops David in his tracks. Confusion clouds his mind for the second time that night. He has no idea what Jack is talking about. 

“What? Who’s back?” he asks, gentle manner abandoned temporarily. Jack shakes his head, picking up his phone. David is about to repeat his question when Jack turns his phone around, showing the screen to David. David moves over to the bed, sitting down next to Jack and taking the phone to read the message glowing there.

_Jacky boy_  
_Guess wot? Im back in ny. Cant wait to see u again, it has been so long. I have missed u so much. Got ur address off an old friend of ours. See u soon_  
_Daddy xxxxxxx_

David’s stomach drops. He knows Jack and his father don’t get along, knows that this is the man responsible for a lot of Jack’s troubles. There have been times when David has noticed Jack flinching at raised voices, times when the pair have been in a crowded room and Jack has needed to get out with no notice. Jack soon accustomed to the mental side of their relationship, but it took months for Jack to become comfortable with physical aspects. Initially, David couldn’t even put an arm around Jack without the other boy tensing beneath him.

Jack had come home terrified, helpless, and David had shown him violence in the only place where he trusted he wouldn’t see it.

“Jack, I didn’t know. God, if I’d had known…” David trails off, remorse eating him up inside. He wants to wrap Jack up in his arms, wants so badly to protect him from the world and the evils in it, but he knows the physical comfort wouldn’t be gladly welcomed. 

“I thought I’d got away. I thought that was over,” Jack begins, voice cracking pitifully. “I don’t want to see him, but he knows where we live, Dave, I can’t avoid him.”

“No,” David says defiantly, a protective urge surging through him. “It is over. You don’t ever have to see him again if you don’t want to. I’ll make sure of it.”

Jack groans in frustration, lacing his palms through his hair and tugging at the scalp. “You _can’t._ He’ll find a way. I don’t even know how he got my number.”

David can feel the frustration pulsating off Jack in waves. He knows there is nothing the pair of them can do at ten past three in the morning.

“Alright. There’s nothing we can do right now, especially when we’re so tired,” he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “But we’ll sort this. We’ll do something about it. I promise.”

Jack nods, shifting on the duvet and settling under it. David strips off his jacket, shirt and pants, leaving just his underwear. It’s cold, but he’s far too tired to bother searching for a clean pair of nightclothes, so he just turns off the light, climbs under the duvet and hopes their shared body heat will keep him warm during the night. 

They lie in silence for a moment, occupying their own sides of the mattress without touching. Jack faces the wall, his back turned on Davey. David knows neither of them are likely to fall asleep any time soon, despite the late hour. The stress of the evening buzzes inside of them both, gnawing at them persistently. 

After what must be around half an hour, Jack rolls over, facing David in the dark. A tense stillness follows.

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispers, breaking the silence.

David hesitates. He doesn’t want to say that it’s okay, because it’s not okay. He’s afraid he’ll lose Jack if he doesn’t intervene and keep him on the right track.

“I forgive you, but this can’t happen again, Jack. It can’t. If you’re scared, or angry, or frustrated, you talk to me, alright? I might not understand how you feel, but I’ll always try to make things right again. I love you, Jack. Don’t do this to us.”

Jack doesn’t respond, and David thinks that might be the end of the conversation. But then he hears a quiet sniff, followed by another, and another, and his heart breaks. Because even in the dark, those are unmistakably the sounds of tears.

“Come here,” David mutters, reaching out blindly and pulling Jack close. Jack’s sobs increase in volume and he buries himself in David’s bare chest, cold hands clinging tightly to his hips. He cries for his past and his uncertain future, cries for David and the pain Jack’s caused him, cries for the scars that will never heal. David whispers words of comfort into his ear, promises of safety and hope and love, but Jack has always struggled with trusting people with their word. 

Eventually, he settles down, sobs dying down to sniffles. He pulls away from David with an apology, wiping his eyes with his forearm. He’s embarrassed that he’s put on such a display for the second time in one evening, but David dismisses it with a simple statement of ‘it’s fine’ and pats the pillow in a suggestion that Jack lies down and tries to get some sleep. He does, eventually, drifting off into a restless slumber.

Somehow, during the night, he manages to wrap himself around Davey’s torso. David will feign annoyance in the morning, and things will go back to normal. Then they’ll work through the problem with Jack’s dad.

Things will work themselves out. They always will.

(Maybe, Jack hopes, he can believe it this time.)


End file.
